


Champagne and Chiffon

by chatonne-rousse (thefullbeaumonty)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Cunnilingus, Drinking Games, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Getting Lucky Zine contribution, Post-Reveal Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Sex in a Car, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 19:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28533507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefullbeaumonty/pseuds/chatonne-rousse
Summary: A boring formal event calls for a little drinking game, doesn't it?  And sometimes that leads to leaving early and heading home to enjoy some alone time with the one you love most.  Might as well make the ride home memorable, too...
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 19
Kudos: 151





	Champagne and Chiffon

**Author's Note:**

> This was my contribution to the [Getting Lucky Zine](https://gettingluckyzine.tumblr.com/), the very first zine I was ever accepted into and a wonderful experience from start to finish. 
> 
> As always, a huge thank you goes out to my biggest supporter and dearest friend [SailorChibi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorChibi/pseuds/SailorChibi), who not only helped to beta this work but supplied the (perfect) title.

_"Bien sûr. Merci beaucoup, monsieur."_

Marinette takes a long pull of the deep red wine in her glass as she politely turns away from the conversation, hoping to wash away the acrid tang of false sweetness the words have left on her tongue.

When she dreamed of a life in the world of fashion, this wasn't exactly how she pictured it. In her imagination, she'd swish through a glittering ballroom on Adrien's arm, the chiffon of her handmade dress swirling around her ankles, perfectly-placed gemstones on the bodice sparkling in the light of a crystal chandelier. They would sip champagne and mingle with her fashion idols. They would dance together, lighter than air, before heading home to their beautiful house, their hamster, and—

 _Well_. 

The parties are lavish, her gowns are stunning, her partner is more handsome than ever. But oh, are these events ever boring. And pretentious. And to be quite honest, they feel like an extension of her workweek, just dressed-up and in a different location. It's exhausting.

Several meters away, at a lull in conversation, her date turns and catches her eye, a cheeky half-smile on his face and a glint in his gaze. 

Just like that, Marinette is renewed.

She sashays toward an unoccupied area shadowed by a pillar knowing without looking that Adrien's arm will wrap around her waist in three...two...one - there it is. She turns to face him, meeting his smirk with one of her own, as he gently presses a kiss to her forehead. 

The heat in his eyes is a direct contrast to the softness of the gesture, but isn't that just the picture of her _chaton_? Bold and brave, but exceedingly humble and kind. Sweet and gentle, wild and dangerous. It's just one more thing she didn't anticipate in her teens - that the friend whose smile could scramble her brain was also the partner who protected her life. The biggest surprise turned out to be the greatest gift, and she wouldn't have it any other way.

Adrien's hand stays curled around her waist even as he reaches for a champagne flute on a passing waiter's tray. He takes a polite sip, looks out at the mingling crowd, and downs the rest before setting the empty glass on a nearby table. Marinette snorts inelegantly and he gives a wry laugh in return.

"This is the worst," he mutters under his breath.

"I know, _Minou_. At least if we have to be here, we can be here together."

His expression softens and it twangs her heartstrings, just like it has for the better part of a decade.

"Correct as always, my buginette." The strong hand at her waist inches just a bit lower, fingers pressing into her hip to pull her just that much closer to his side. He leans down to murmur in her ear, "And might I say, you look absolutely ravishing tonight."

His breath leaves a trail of goosebumps on her neck and a tingle down her spine. She can't help but stretch up to kiss him, whispering a thank you against his lips. If only they were back at home, making love in their moonlit bedroom instead of standing in the shadows at the perimeter of a dance floor during a stuffy party. It would be several hours, at least, of soul-draining small talk before that could happen.

Marinette sighs and takes another sip of her wine.

"What did M. Bertrand want?”

She huffs. “Something I can’t give him.”

His eyes widen.

"Not like that, you goof. He wanted a private meeting with 'the elder Agreste' and assumed I could arrange that." Marinette punctuates the phrase with air quotes and a moue that matches Adrien's before continuing. "I'm neither a miracle worker nor Nathalie. Ugh."

This time she finishes her wine and the glass joins Adrien's empty champagne flute on the table. Taking advantage of the perks of convenience that come with money, he plucks two more glasses from the tray of another waiter who seems to magically appear a moment later. 

Their life together is as low-key as it can be, given his name and their extracurriculars, but sometimes the opulence Marinette is surrounded with astounds her. Thank goodness her partner tempers that feeling at times like these, always up for fun and a bit of chaos. (That's probably Plagg's influence, and she loves it.) The sweet-tart burn of bubbles on her tongue sparks an idea, and she looks up at Adrien's handsome profile as he peers out at the room again.

"Want to play a game, _beau gosse_?"

That gets his attention.

His purely feline grin lights up her senses again, making her wish they were much more alone than they are right now.

"What kind of game?"

Marinette glances around the room, taking in the dresses and suits on display tonight. With visual acuity not unlike her heat-of-battle Ladyvision, she notes the rainbow of colors and patterns across the roomful of guests.

"How about," she starts, as he takes the first swig of his new glass of champagne, "you take a sip for every woman wearing red and black--”

“And you take two sips for every man in black and green!” Adrien finishes, grinning. Taking in her arched eyebrow, he shrugs one shoulder and adds, “There won’t be as many of those.”

“Fair,” she concedes, taking another sip and looking out at the room again.

“How will we know who won?”

She gives him a sidelong glance. “We’re both winners if we’re buzzed, _Chaton_.”

“Fair.”

Her smile turns coy. “I was thinking...when we get home, we could…” She goes up on her tiptoes in her heels to purr the rest of the sentence in his ear, immensely gratified by the way his green eyes widen and he chokes a bit on his champagne.

“ _Right_ ,” he coughs. “Avoid whiskey dick, claim reward.”

“Pretty sure it’s my reward, _mon cher_.”

He narrowly avoids sputtering on his drink again, gulping heavily and shaking his head. “ _Fuck_ , Mari,” he hisses.

“That is the idea.” She gestures toward the center of the room with the index finger wrapped around her champagne flute. “Oh look, Madame Martin chose my colors tonight. Drink, kitty.”

To Marinette’s surprise, there are no less than seven male partygoers in black and green. Adrien scouts them out with delight, enjoying himself far more than he would have this evening otherwise, always ready with a new glass of her choice of beverage when the current one runs dry.

Joke’s on him, though, because her designer’s eye can spot at least two dozen women in varying shades of red, and many of them have chosen to accessorize with black.

Two hours later, the string quartet plays a light instrumental cover of a song that she enjoys much more as a Jagged Stone original as Marinette sways with her fiancé on the dance floor. Adrien’s strong hand holds her at the small of her back, fingers idly toying with the bow on her bodice’s corset tie. Their hands are still clasped in a formal dance position, but now they’re held tightly between them, the long line of their bodies warm against each other, moving as one. 

His hand drifts just a little lower, and she moves to thread her fingers into his hair, ready to pull him down to her and capture his lips with hers. That is, until another couple glides by and her brain catches up to her libido. She stretches to whisper in his ear instead.

“Are you ready, Kitty?”

Even tipsy, he catches her meaning loud and clear. The heat in his eyes when he nods sends a little jolt of arousal straight to her center.

“As my lady wishes.”

Outside the venue a few minutes later, a black limousine pulls up to the curb in front of them and Adrien gestures her toward it with a hand at the small of her back.

********

Her exposed shoulders have barely touched the heated leather seat before the many gauzy layers of her dress are rucked up to her waist, obscuring her vision completely for a few long moments. In that time, Adrien’s hands slide softly, quickly, up her legs and beneath her panties, squeezing her behind cheekily before pulling her underwear down her legs and banishing them to parts unknown.

Her skin tingles in the wake of his warm fingers. It’s a sharp, sudden contrast to the cool air against her core, the sensitive skin exposed when he cants her hips upwards and splays her legs over his biceps. She barely has time to register the sensation before he dives in, and suddenly, he’s _everywhere_.

She cries out in surprised pleasure, gripping the edge of the seat with both hands. His nose nudges her clit, his lips surround her folds, his tongue seeks entrance. It’s too much, it’s not enough, it’s—

“Oh my god, Adrien! _Adrien_! Fuck!”

He doesn’t answer, too focused on the task at hand. He lets action speak for him instead, probing deeper inside her before allowing two fingers to continue the work of his tongue.

The same moment he curls his fingers upward, his lips find her clit and Marinette is _soaring_. 

Now her hands are in his hair, grasping, tangling, pulling. She feels his reaction, a soft moan against her skin, and clutches him tighter to her.

She’s vaguely aware of the crick in her neck from the awkward position he’s folded her into, but even if she could form coherent sentences, she wouldn’t dream of stopping him in the divine mission of his lips and tongue. 

The days of fumbling through their first sweet but awkward sexual encounters are long gone, replaced with a deep and intimate knowledge of each other's bodies, needs, and desires. Just as she can work him into an incoherent mess from her knees, he knows exactly what it takes to make her writhe against his tongue as she seeks her release. It's addictive and primal, but still an act of shared intimacy and abiding love.

Even in the back of a moving limousine.

The City of Lights lives up to its name as all the illumination of an early autumn Saturday night whizzes by the tinted windows, signs and street lamps and marquees a dizzying blur. It isn't until the vehicle slows to a stop at a traffic signal that the ambient light of the city truly casts its glow on what's going on inside the limo. 

And suddenly Marinette is very aware of the fact that tourists and Parisians alike fill the sidewalks just a few feet away from them. The windows are tinted and mirrored and she knows they can't see inside, but it thrills her nonetheless. Ladybug and Chat Noir have tested the limits of both their supersuits and public decency a few times over the years, but being able to look into the eyes of strangers completely unaware as her fiancé laves his tongue against her folds, sucks her bud between his lips - _oh god_ , it's such a rush.

His hum of delighted surprise tells her he can feel her surge of arousal in the clench of her walls around his fingers and the gush of wetness on his tongue.

The sounds he’s making against her skin are positively indecent, but that only fuels her fire. She's so, so close, and of course he knows it. He adds a third finger, pumping harder, faster, his lips and tongue working her clit in tandem to take her higher and higher, closer and closer.

Just as the signal changes and the limo takes off again, he gazes up at her from between her legs, dim light shining in his beautiful eyes, and that's it. Marinette wonders vaguely whether the bistro diners on the sidewalk can hear her shout of Adrien's name as they drive away, but doesn't spare it more than a thought as she falls apart with one last flick of his tongue. 

Both hands in his hair pull him closer to her body. She rides her climax shamelessly on his face as he keeps pressure on her clit to prolong her pleasure through each crashing wave, until she's so sensitive she gasps for mercy.

He carefully licks her clean, giving one last kiss to her bud that makes her muscles jump before gently lowering her feet to the floor. She smiles at him as she sits upright, perfectly sated but already prepared for more, and he surges up on his knees to kiss her. She moans at the taste of herself on his lips, clutching him closer to her as the kiss deepens and she wraps her hands around his back beneath his suit jacket.

She's ready to switch places, to get him on the seat, trousers down, erection freed, and either take him in her mouth or sink down on him and ride him until—

The limo stops outside their apartment building, the driver coming around to stand expectantly by the door.

"Guess that's our cue," Adrien murmurs against her lips before leaning back to help smooth her dress over her legs once more. Marinette tries to fix her hair but gives up, twisting the once-styled chignon into a messy bun using the same jeweled clip.

Still a bit tipsy and now riding the high of her climax, Marinette decides to head off disaster at the pass and unbuckles the ankle strap of her heels, slipping them off before taking Adrien’s proffered hand. They make their way through the quiet lobby hand-in-hand and wait as the elevator slowly whirs its way down to the ground floor.

Their penthouse apartment was chosen specifically for its discreet rooftop access, but as civilians, they’re both grateful for the elevator, tiny though it may be. Fit or not, walking up six flights of steps is never fun.

It's a tight squeeze with the two of them, but neither minds the close contact. As the elevator ascends, Adrien kisses slowly along the back of her neck, making his way to the skin behind her ear. Marinette drops her head back on his opposite shoulder to give him better access and reaches behind her back to palm his erection through his trousers.

She chuckles smugly to herself at his sharp intake of breath and low groan, though she matches his gasp with her own when he scrapes his teeth along the skin over her pulse point and sucks the spot hard enough to leave a mark. 

"Careful, _Chaton_ ," she admonishes, "we have brunch with my parents tomorrow."

He pays her no heed, licking a path to another spot lower on the curve of her neck before doing it again. This time, he makes eye contact with her in the mirrored surface of the elevator door, his expression unrepentant.

"You can always wear your hair down. You look beautiful that way."

She keeps his gaze as she grasps him tighter in turn and lets her hand travel upward, middle finger following the ridge of his cock with a steady pressure that makes him splay his own palm against her stomach and press their bodies together.

"You're dangerous, My Lady," he pants against her neck, grinding his erection on her trapped hand.

The reflected smile she gives him just as the doors open is predatory. 

Her dress brushes the floor now that her heels dangle from her index finger, but she’s well aware he's watching her make her way to their apartment door, so she adds an extra swing to her hips and a swish of fabric around her legs. She knows what works on him after all these years.

He fumbles the keys in his haste, and she can't help but break her sultry facade to giggle at him.

The edge has worn off of their earlier buzz, but they're still both a bit keyed up. Arousal is high, inhibitions are low, and they’re steps from complete privacy. The easy intimacy of moments like these make her love him just that much more.

Marinette laces the fingers of her free hand with his, and he turns to her with a lopsided grin as the key clicks in the lock.

He gestures grandly. "After you, Princess."

********

Ten minutes later finds her bent over the armrest of the sofa, bare from the waist down, arms stretched above her head like an indolent cat just awakened from a nap.

The gossamer layers of her dress rustle around her shoulders each time he plunges into her heat again. Her toes barely touch the floor, but Adrien's hands hold firm to her hips in both support and control, bringing their bodies together over and over. His initial long, powerful strokes are now a short, slick staccato that keeps him buried within her, pressing ever deeper, harder, ramping her arousal to soaring heights.

“Mari,” Adrien pants, one syllable at a time, “unh… _fuck_. I’m close.”

In answer, she grips the cushion tighter and summons just enough core strength to push back to meet his pelvis, consciously clenching around him. The combination, along with the grind of her clit against the armrest, finally does her in.

She flops bonelessly to the sofa, whimpering into the upholstery as her orgasm washes over her. He slows his pace but fucks her through it, prolonging her climax as he chases his own. Her walls are still fluttering around his cock a few moments later when he comes with a groan of her name, spilling inside as he holds her close.

They each take a minute to catch their breath before he pulls out carefully, being sure to avoid ruining her dress. Marinette straightens up and turns to him, letting her skirts fall to the floor in a quiet _fwoosh_. Reaching up to press a soft kiss to his lips, she delights in his familiar happy sigh. 

She could easily slip away on the pleasant hum of satisfaction that thrums in her veins, pull him to bed to curl up next to her and sleep until midmorning tomorrow. But they'd still be at that stuffy party if they hadn't snuck away, and she did get his hopes up earlier...

"What do you think, my love?" she murmurs against his lips, her fingers creeping beneath the shirttails of the button-down he's still wearing and skimming the length of his already-stirring cock. "Does my kitty have one more round in him? I think you may have won our little game, after all. So I suppose..." she trails off as she slowly strokes him back to life, leaning back to look into his wide eyes. "I suppose you've earned the prize I offered."

Adrien raises an eyebrow even as a smirk begins to cross his face. "I thought that was _your_ reward, Bug."

"Oh, _Chaton_. You know it is," she purrs, giving his ass a light slap. "Now go get ready for your Lady."

She doesn't need to tell him twice. He's already disappeared to their bedroom when she reaches for the hidden zipper on her gown, shimmying out of the chiffon and draping it carefully over the back of the sofa before slipping down the hall. 

Finding fun where they can and coming home together afterward, sharing everything about this crazy life with one another - _that_ is a reward in itself, one they've both earned and given many times over.

Marinette hears the bed creak under him and smiles to herself, crossing the threshold into their moonlit bedroom to claim her prize.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [chatonne-rousse](https://chatonne-rousse.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr. Come say hi!


End file.
